


Victory Over The Sun

by brennivin



Category: Kick-Ass (2010), Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Puns, Bisexuality, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Drugs, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Gangsters, Graphic Depictions of Fighting Games Jargon, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Medical Procedures, Memes, Multi, Nanomachines, Sexual Tension, Social Anxiety, Unrequited Love, chico is in it if you squint, dumb gay baby eli, weeaboos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennivin/pseuds/brennivin
Summary: Jack Sears just wanted to be a real life superhero.Sunny Emmerich just wanted to avenge her mother.It just so happened that John D'Amico was the one man standing in their way.





	1. We can change the world despite all our enemies.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's an MGS and Kick-Ass crossover.  
> No, I do not fear God, nor death.
> 
> Also I have commissions open! Ask for my discord/email if you want.

All that George Sears seemed to want was for his son to find some kind of passion in life; anything at all.

Growing up he always tried to, well, not _pressure_ Jack but just to encourage him. He always tried to encourage him to try out extracurricular clubs. Every time, he insisted that maybe Jack would have a good time and make a connection. Every time, he didn’t. It was always the same. Jack wasn’t particularly good at anything and didn’t really want for anything.

He couldn’t help being so clueless – when he had adopted the boy he’d never had to look after children before. It just so happened he was the only friend of his parents. Similarly to their son, Jack’s biological parents had been major loners. Real quiet types is what they were, and seemingly just as boring.

They died in the least spectacular ways as well. His mother died of a brain aneurism. His father had a heart attack caused mostly by the pain of her loss.

They lived and died dragging their mediocrity behind them like a trash bag full of cinder blocks. They were some of George’s closest friends, but he just never truly understood them. Maybe there was some kind of genetic disposition that made Jack a similarly tough nut to crack. Maybe he’d never really ‘get him’ or truly know what he was thinking.

He did his best. It was better than not having a father at all, he told himself. Jack needed him.

-

Jack wasn’t particularly good at anything.

He didn’t have particularly great charisma, a place on a sports team, internet fame or even an edgy subculture. He was a spectacular nobody. Sometimes he impressed himself with his own lack of passion for anything. School was fine. He read comics but that was about it. He didn’t even play videogames competitively like the ‘cool’ nerds did. He wasn’t even the best out of his friends at _any_ game.

He was another loser with unkempt hair and few friends. The friends he did have were somehow even more tragic than he was.

There was Emma for starters. She was pretty quiet when she was alone but with the others she was able to let her hair down. Hanging out with a chick who was infamously a weeaboo didn’t do their reputations any favours but it wasn’t as if anything they did would. She insisted on wearing chopsticks in her hair and preferred to read Japanese comics. Jack never really got into those himself – he could never get used to reading from right to left. She wore these hoodies that were several sizes too big with garish dorky prints and was rarely caught wearing any bottoms other than leggings. She wore glasses even though she didn’t need them. At least she had her wits about her, though. It was pretty easy for her to influence the others – all it took was a little teasing and she could get under anyone’s ego.

He couldn’t say the same about Sam. Sam was a good-looking guy but was more or less hopeless. His grades were just embarrassing and he wasn’t particularly athletic. He couldn’t socialise to save his life, either. It was a shame, too. If he was much less awkward he could probably be popular. Jack was 100% sure he’d grow up to be the most attractive out of all of them. One day he’d have a huge glow-up and be massively successful or something. Right now, though, he was still in that weird phase of life where he didn’t have his shit together. The guy was dumb as a post. He insisted on wearing plaid shirts which weren’t really in style anymore and listened to the most obscure music; he only really became friends with the other two thanks to comics. Turned out he was a huge Hellblazer fan and so was Jack.

They were waiting for him in the school hallway. Emma had her backpack at her feet, stuffed with any number of things that the others didn’t dare try to figure out. It was a wonder she found room in the thing for any of her books. Sam was rummaging through his locker looking for a book. Emma leaned over, pulled a textbook out and waved it in his face. Core level mathematics. He squinted at her, unsure of how she found it so quickly. Sam took math at core level since he was too dumb for a course any higher than core level. He took core science as well, and core english.

“You two got any news?”

Sam shoved his locker shut. “When do I ever have news?”

Emma frowned. “Oh, we already know you’re boring Sam.”

“I’ll fuckin… take your chopstick out and hide it again.”

She glared, but quickly turned to speak to Jack. The threat wasn’t hollow.

“Well, I moved up a rank in the street fighter leaderboards.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you at now?”

“Silver League.”

Sam scoffed.

“What, you think you could do better? You haven’t ranked up in weeks.”

They made their way to class, squabbling as they usually did.

“Yeah, only because I’ve been so busy.”

“Busy doing what, jacking off and picking lame characters?”

“Ken is not lame!” Sam groaned like a child defending his favourite starter Pokemon.

Emma smirked, hands on her tiny hips. “He is when you spam DP all the time.”

“I don’t- Jack, I don’t spam DP all the time right?”

Jack had only been half listening. “What’s a DP?”

They simultaneously threw their arms up and groaned.

Emma crossed her arms over her huge pastel green hoodie. It had a big magenta print of Kirby on it. “You know how he’s always using Shoryuken at like, every opportunity?”

“Oh. Shoryuken is DP?”

“Yeah and other attacks like it. Psycho upper, too.”

He nodded slowly, only partially understanding. These guys were way more into games than him and there was no point in trying to fully get what they were saying.

“Anyway, if you block Shoryuken it leaves a big opening so that means I can get SO many grabs in. If you use it all the time, you’re asking to lose. You play like a chump then you’re a free win.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He mumbled, trying to sound like he knew what any of that meant. One time at Emma’s place he’d played a little Street Fighter with her and he just hadn’t understood the appeal. They stopped at Jack’s locker. “Can we change the subject to something less dorky, though?”

Sam laughed. “Like what? Everything we like is dorky.”

“True.”

He was trying to find a particular exercise book, running his fingertips over the spines of the ones he had.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

He looked up. It was Rose. Her locker was close to his, after all. Rose was talking to him. She was talking to _him._

Rose was a pretty girl, so Jack barely knew her. She was the kind of girl who could tell him to lick the dirty fucking floor and he’d do it, without hesitation. Her hair was straightened so it fell over her shoulders so _perfectly._ Her face was porcelain smooth, and her smile made her cheeks twitch in the most adorable way-

“Yeah?”

Rose’s eyes widened, then she smiled at him politely. “Not you, Jack.”

He turned. Helena was behind him. Oh God. Rose wasn’t talking to him. Helena looked at him like he was a total alien, tucking a lock of wild blonde hair behind her ear.

“Oh. You meant Helena. Of course.”

They were laughing. Oh Jesus fucking _Christ_.

He quickly retrieved his exercise book and fled, flanked by Emma and Sam who were desperately trying to contain their laughter.

“Wow, Jack you _fucked up.”_

Emma poked him in the side and Sam started giggling maniacally like a little girl on laughing gas. What-fucking- _ever_.

Classes came and went. He couldn’t focus at all, totally distracted by how biblically he’d embarrassed himself that morning. Rose probably thought he was totally _waste_ now.

Jack did his best to look like he was reading, but none of it was going in anyway. He did his best to make himself small, and wait for time to pass. He could always go back and re-read the notes once his brain wasn’t pounding with anxiety.

-

Outer Heaven Comix was their usual haunt – just a local comic book store and diner that acted as a sort of home turf for the otherwise reclusive trio. It was the one place that they could feel like they all fit in to some degree.

When they arrived, Emma made a bee-line for the new releases and Sam followed her like a shadow. None of Jack’s favourites had new releases lately, and he knew the two of them were after the new Attack On Titan volumes. He’d stopped reading about half a year prior and just never picked it up again. Instead, he lingered around the compilation Marvel books, looking to add to his collection of Spiderman comics. It turned out they hadn’t had any noteworthy ones in this week, though. He flipped through the other comics they had to see if any of his other favourites was in stock.

No dice. He ended up settling for a couple of blind bags instead. It never hurt to save money anyway. The others were already at the counter practically itching to get their new volumes. Emma and Sam were very fixated on this particular manga. He decided to line up for some hot tea, since the others would want theirs. It was usually the same order – Emma liked her tea with no sugar but with two thingies of milk, while Sam liked to put four packets of sugar in his. One of the group would go and order for them and the others would pay them back.

He arrived at their usual table and Emma clapped her hands ecstatically, reaching for her tea and ripping open the little milk tubs with her teeth. Sam started to pour in his sugar. He liked to put a lot of sugar in, because apparently he hated the taste of tea. Jack always asked why he even bought tea if he hated the taste. Why not just get hot chocolate or coffee? He always said Jack just didn’t get it. Jack was pretty sure he was so stupid he just hadn’t thought of ordering anything else, and now he was sticking to his guns so he wouldn’t look so stupid. The thing is, Sam was so stupid he didn’t realise that everyone already took him for an idiot. He really was that kind of hopeless, but he was pretty enough that nobody gave him a hard time for it - at least, nobody with a heart and two working eyes. Jack slipped in next to him and put one sugar in his tea. He put in just one sugar and one pot of milk, because he wasn’t really keen on experimenting. His dad made it this way and he always had it the way his dad made it.

The door opened and Emma seemed surprised by who came inside, peeping up through her black-rimmed glasses. The others turned around to catch a look over their shoulders.

Two incredibly hard looking people flanked Eli D’amico, as usual. This kid was a regular basket-case and it seriously seemed like nobody knew much about him. His family were supposedly wealthy and they hired guards to protect him, but the double edge to this sword was that they kept other students away. Hell, they kept any other kids away from him regardless. It made him super mysterious, and super lonesome.

“It’s Eli. That kid is so mysterious.” Sam was sipping gingerly at his tea, unsure if it was still too hot to drink.

Warming his hands by wrapping them around the paper cup, Jack blurted out, “I feel bad for him.”

Emma giggled. “Yeah, poor guy. He’s got a rich dad and can buy anything he wants.”

Jack stuck out his tongue at her. “You know what I mean really, Emma. He’s probably super lonely since nobody ever talks to him at school.”

Sam swallowed his overly-sweetened drink and squinted in Jack’s direction. “Yeah, maybe because he brings two fucking _colossi_ with him everywhere. If he was our friend maybe nobody would fuck with us.”

“We should talk to him.” Jack mumbled into his cup. “Be his friends.”

Sam scoffed. “No Jack, _you_ should go talk to him.”

“What? Why, though?”

“You’re the one who feels like he needs a friend, right? Or are you scared?”

This earned a slight frown from Jack as he took a long swig of his tea. “That’s not fair.”

Emma leaned over the table to taunt him. “Oh, you _are_ scared!”

“I hate you guys.”

“Go get ‘im tiger! Confidence is everything.”

“Fuck you, Emma.”

She winked. He rose to his feet reluctantly; it felt like the floor would start caving in under him. Hell, he kind of hoped it did so he had an excuse to bail.

Eli was flipping through a Ghost Rider comic, his eyes studious as he debated his purchase. He wore his short-sleeved plaid shirt open, as usual. Underneath he had a snug black turtleneck on, the fabric thin and pulled tight against his slender body. In the summer he wore just vests and cropped t-shirts under but the weather was getting cold lately. His blond hair had untidy waves and grew past his ears. Somehow he always managed to look wild and strange, but that was common with those… _gothic_ types. Jack wondered if he’d make a fine friend to Sam. They probably had the same music tastes – musicians with names you either couldn’t understand or were embarrassed to say in public. He still couldn’t figure out how “BBno$” was meant to be pronounced.

The man on one side of him was heavy-built, with some kind of black tattoos on his face. He wondered if the guy had tattoos all over, just like them. There was some kind of bird shape to the ink in some places. The other one was a sharp-edged looking woman with long blonde hair and severity in her eyes. She was also dressed in a black suit, her shirt open halfway so her bountiful chest was partially exposed. Jack tried not to stare at the exposed skin, but it took a lot of effort. The two of them made an intimidating combination.

“H-hey.”

Eli turned to look at him, recognised him and Jack could have sworn he smiled for the briefest fragment of a second. The beginning of a sentence started to twitch at the corners of his mouth until the tall, tough-looking woman stepped in front of him and Jack felt like shitting himself and crying at the same time. He looked up at her like a wild animal in the headlights of a speeding pick-up truck. She stared him down for a solid few seconds, daring him to speak another word. He wouldn’t dare. Maybe if he were like Colossus, but specifically in the genital region. If his dick and balls were made from a literal metal compound, maybe he’d dare defy her. However, he was just a normal human boy. He wasn’t a superhero, and especially not in the genitals. This woman terrified him.

Jack dragged himself back to where the others were and gestured towards the door frantically. Emma and Sam scooped up their drinks and bags and followed him out, equally wide-eyed. They diverted their eyes towards the door and didn’t dare look anywhere else.

-

“Holy _shit_ dude.”

“You were _terrified_ man!”

“Can you even blame me? She looked ready to kick me across the room!”

“Yeah, but you essentially _shat yourself.”_

“Last time I checked you weren’t winning any participation prizes yourself, Emma.”

They laughed at him. It wasn’t that big of a deal though. They all knew that they wouldn’t have reacted any differently in his situation. The difference is, neither of them had the decency to not stare at that scary woman’s cleavage. If he had to put money on it he’d bet they had stared as soon as they had seen her. Those two were a couple of perverts.

When two familiar faces rounded the corner, the three of them went quiet. This really wasn’t the time for it. Jack had already _figuratively_ pissed himself once today, and it seemed like fate was determined to make this day particularly riddled with anxiety and suffering.

Marina was actually a good-looking girl. It was a shame she was also a grade-A bitch. She rounded the corner like the whole world was beneath her, with Clay closely in tow. She wore designer sneakers despite not having a job to pay for them. Her manicure looked expensive, so she had Clay make fists on her behalf. The guy followed her like a pet.

These were the types Jack didn’t like to fuck with. They didn’t respect anybody. They’d already dropped out of highschool a couple of years ago and had only become more of a nuisance ever since. Marina talked big, and Clay hit hard to back her up. He was a country boy, built big with muscle and delighting in his ability to use it.

Marina flipped her hair so that it flew about for a moment and then fell back over one side of her face. Emma squirmed under her intense stare.

“Alright, freaks. Hand it over.” She gestured towards the plastic bag Emma was carrying.

Emma pouted and tangled her fingers protectively in the bag’s handles. “It’s just comics.”

She gestured more insistently and Emma reluctantly handed it over to Clay, the usual grin plastered on his face. The beanie hat he wore over his extremely short hair framed it almost cartoonishly.

“And I want your phone.”

The sad look on Emma’s face only soured further. “I don’t have it with me. Forgot it at home.” She patted her own bag down to make a point, showing that there was nothing in there of value.

Marina tutted at her and turned to Sam. He hesitantly handed over his phone.

“This is shit. What, is this from like four years ago?”

Sam mumbled. “Someone already jacked my phone just two weeks ago. It’s a spare until my new one arrives.”

“Still worth something I guess. You guys are pathetic, though.” Marina grunted, rolling the old phone over in her hands and grimacing at the hairline crack she found in one corner of the touch screen.

Jack shook his head and handed over some money just to get her off his back and she smiled.

“See, now this is the kind of thing I like. A waste who knows his fuckin’ place.” She passed the money to Clay, who tucked it into the bag as well as Sam’s spare phone.

He’d wanted to keep it for next week, but there was no reasoning with these two. They could and would beat the shit out of him if he looked at them the wrong way. Just to be safe he handed them $40, which was the rest of the money he had with him.

Before they left, Marina looked them all over as if she could scan more wealth out of them. Then she followed Clay the way they had arrived, seemingly satisfied. The sway in her hips would almost be attractive if she wasn’t walking away with most of his weekly spending money. It was only fucking Tuesday, too.

-

“Wait, dude, say that again?”

Jack paused, searching his inventory for the item Emma had asked for. “Think about it. You’d think out of all the people who love superheroes, at least one would try it.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, but they’d be dead in, like, two days.”

“Thanks for the potion, Jack.”

“No problem, Emma.”

Dungeon crawling was how they spent their Thursday nights whenever they were all available, and tonight was no different. Jack was the team’s healer, so he found himself constantly having to supply potions and restorative spells for Emma. Being the team’s tank meant she sustained the most damage. Sam gave her grief for using so many potions, but what did he know? He was an archer. Archers didn’t know what it was like to be the one charging headfirst into battle.

“I know they’d be dead, but surely somebody crazy enough would at least try it anyway.” He mused. “I mean hundreds of people wanna be like Jennifer Lawrence but not one of them wants to be Spider-Man?”

Emma scoffed, cleaving through a hoarde of cave rats. “Yeah, because Spider-Man doesn’t have public nudes.”

Sam cackled. “Oh, you haven’t seen them? Check rule 34 some time.”

“You’re such a sicko, man. Have I ever told you you’re a sicko?”

“Oh, come _on._ We _all_ know about those doujinshi you have on your hard-drive, Em-”

Jack groaned. “Guys, we’ve got goblins.”

“Oh, fuck.” Sam quickly fired some iron bolts to support Emma, who had already lost half of her health.

Jack quickly activated his targeted healing to help her with that. The new staff he’d picked up at the previous dungeon was working beautifully.

“But seriously guys, isn’t it weird? I can _so_ see it on the news. Just imagine the headlines if some idiot tried it on and got himself whacked.”

“Hah. Yeah. I totally get that. That would be a riot.” Emma took a sip of her Diet Coke loud enough the others could hear her over voice chat and killed off the last goblin before leading the party into the next room. “Sad though.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jack mumbled. “It’d be pretty sad.”

Sam interrupted. “Emma you drink _so_ loudly. You’re an actual slob.”

“Whatever, Spider-fucker. You eat like a fucking washing machine full of rice krispies.”

-

Marina and Clay had taken his money from him far too many times – hell, they’d made life hell for dozens of kids in the area. People like them couldn’t be allowed to do that. There was only so much the police could do. There was only so much he could _take._

It all kind of happened on its own – before he knew it he had ordered a suit and before he knew it the thing had already arrived. The old sports equipment at the back of his closet was easy to fashion into simple melee weapons – the grip tape still worked nicely despite being old and a little worn. He’d spent hours coming up with names and crossing them out. He made himself a pair of batons and a longer staff-like weapon.

More than anything, he was just giving himself a creative outlet. It was just a little project, no different to the LARPing he and Sam used to do in middle school. The main difference was that this time he wouldn’t be mocked for it, and he wouldn’t get his ass kicked while dressed like a fucking wood elf. Sure, he might get his ass kicked if he got cocky, but that was beside the point.

He’d set little challenges for himself – he trained himself to sprint a little faster by practicing, did sets of pushups and situps every other day and put in some long-jump practice when he found a good outdoor space for it. He wasn’t trying to make himself into a machine or anything, he just didn’t want to be total milquetoast. It made fantasising feel a bit less escapist and a bit more hopeful.

When his dad knocked on his door he called for him to come in, and the man seemed surprised to see his son doing sit-ups in his room.

“Hey, dad.”

“Jack, you working out?”

He stopped, propping his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I mean… I just wanna shape up a bit that’s all.”

Dad smiled. “Probably a good idea. Wouldn’t want any rough kids thinking you’re an easy target.”

“Of course.” He got up and grabbed a towel off his bed to wipe himself down.

“I’m proud of you, kid. Food’s gonna be ready in twenty.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks, dad.”

His dad didn’t close the door when he left. Jack stood there for a moment wondering if he’d turn around and close it but he didn’t. He sighed and crossed the room to close it himself.

At first it had felt good just to fantasise, but he was feeling himself getting restless. LARPing was great when the villains were also just roleplayers. In real life, they really weren’t. It would never be enough to fantasise.

-

“I swear to fucking _God_ I’m telling the truth.”

The warehouse echoed their voices, lit by clinically white hanging lights. The place was lined with steel racks, which were stacked with thick pieces of lumber. John looked down at his enforcer, Octopus. He was trembling, his pinkie finger firmly caught between the blades of Mantis’ shears. Octopus’ pale skin was shining with sweat under the heat of John’s stare.

“This fucking guy came out of _nowhere_ , beat us up and took the coke.”

He grumbled in response, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “The guy you’re saying looked like Batman?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Buffalo pitched in, her ponytail drawn back tight and her muscular upper body visible through her fitted shirt. It was open at the neck and she wore a gold necklace that peeked out in a glint. “You did, Octopus. You said the guy looked like Batman.”

Mantis hummed, distorted by the filter of his signature gas mask. “Yes, he said there was a mask and a cape? That’s like Batman.”

“I did not say ‘like Batman’ okay, I never said _fucking_ Batman.”

“Okay.” John grunted. “That’s a problem, though, Octopus. Our mole with the Russians said you sold him my coke, and kept the money.”

“That’s a lie, Boss! I swear!” His brow was contorting into a frown. “Would you really believe all that from one of the Russians? You seriously believe _Raikov_ over me?” He said Raikov’s name like he was allergic to it.

He gestured with one hand, his cigar hanging between his fingers. His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he laid out his question.

“Okay, tell me what’s more likely. Is it more likely that you’re a thieving traitor or that Superman stole my _fucking_ coke?”

Buffalo piped up. “Batman. It was Batman, right?”

“N-No, no. I didn’t say-”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough.”

There were a few seconds of ice cold silence while they all looked down at Octopus, then up at their boss. John began to speak again, his one working eye narrowing in anger.

“My son’s waiting outside for me to take him out, and I won’t keep him waiting.” Turning around, he nodded to Buffalo. “You’re in charge.”

She nodded back, cracking a little smile. The Boss was already at the door dragging it open by the time she muttered, “Sorry Octopus. That’s probably the _single_ _dumbest_ fake story I’ve heard.”

Then she shot a commanding look at Mantis, who didn’t hesitate. He proceeded to slice off his smallest finger on Octopus’ left hand. The poor man howled in pain, and Buffalo flashed a full grin. His feet scrabbled for purchase on the linoleum as his body spasmed and his teeth dug into his lower lip in an attempt to silence himself. His attempt did nothing to muffle the sound of his wailing.

-

Eli could hear a scream from all the way outside, in the passenger seat of his dad’s new car. He didn’t usually ask any questions about this stuff. It was just every day work for his father, because there were always people that needed to be taken down a peg in his line of work. He rubbed an itch out of the side of his nose on the sleeve of his turtleneck.

Dad got into the car, sinking into the passenger seat next to Eli. The seat squashed audibly under his large, heavy body.

“Father! I don’t want to be late for the film.” Eli was a little bit agitated, but he was almost always at least somewhat annoyed with his dad.

He smiled warmly at his son, putting out his cigar on the ashtray. He’d just finish it later.

“Don’t worry Eli. We might miss the trailers but we’ll make it.”

Octopus was still screaming faintly in the distance. God, would he just shut up already?

Eli mumbled. “I want popcorn, though.”

“That’s fine. Raven, could you get Eli some popcorn when we get there?”

Vulcan Raven nodded from the driver’s seat, his brow drawn tight over his deep-set eyes.

“What drink do you want? Is 7up good?”

He nodded, eyes wandering at the view through the window.

“Yeah, and a 7up. I’ll have a Mountain Dew.”

The screaming was still going. Raven nodded again.

“Not the green Mountain Dew, though, I want the Code Red flavour.”

Then there was a single gunshot. The screaming stopped.

“Twizzlers, too.”

There was one last nod as Vulcan Raven pulled the car out of its parking spot and began the short journey to the movie theatre.

-

“G-Grandpa, I’m sssscared.” Sunny stammered. The extra weight in her coat was heavy against her chest. Her hair was tucked tightly under a thick beanie.

It was a mild afternoon, and Huey Emmerich had a fully loaded pistol pointed at his 12-year-old grand-daughter.

“Don’t be scared Sunny sweetie.” Her grandpa checked the magazine of his pistol to make sure it was correctly loaded. He almost never loaded it wrong but it was worth checking, to be safe.

“Is it gonna, um, like hurt?” Her lip quivered, her hands clenched into tight fists.

“Oh, you know you’ll be okay. A bullet of this calibur travels at what speed?” He was fiddling with the gun, passing it between his hands as he waited for her answer.

The rail yard was totally empty except for the two of them. There hadn’t been a single train on this particular slice of rail in about five years apparently. Most of the track had been dismantled and the few pieces left over had long-since rusted and decayed.

Sunny swallowed hard. “Over 700 miles an hour.”

“Exactly. It should take you off your feet, but at this distance it won’t hurt any more than a punch.”

“I hate b-b-being punched!”

“Are you ready?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, putting a bullet in her tiny body and sending her flying onto her back.

It took a moment for her to gather herself and prop her body back up, and she opened her coat to observe the bullet embedded in the Kevlar vest underneath.

“Was it alright? Not bad?” He said, coming to her side to help her up.

She yanked the bullet out between her fingers and studied it closely, running her fingertip over the crumpled surface.

“I guess. I wasn’t that sc-scared.”

“That’s my girl!” Huey smiled. “Two more rounds.”

“T-Two?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Fine grandpa b-but I wanna g-g-go to the arcade.”

Grandpa scoffed. “The _arcade…?”_

She blurted out, “And can we g-get ice cream too?”

“Deal. Two more rounds, and I don’t want any complaints okay?”

A warm little smile came over her pale little face. “Alright! I want hot f-fudge on mine.”

-

“You took it like a little champ though, right? Your daddy raised a toughie.” He reached out over the table and patted her shoulder. “You decided what you want for your birthday?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I want a puppy, grandpa.”

“A puppy?”

“Yeah, and the n-newest Lala Loopsie doll too. The one with the pink curly p-p-pigtails.”

He stared at her like she’d shape-shifted into another person entirely.

Then she cracked a huge grin. “Just f-f-fuckin’ with you actually grandpa.” She looked down at her spoon, full of little pieces of fudge. “I actually want a new set of b-b-butterfly knives.”

He smiled back. “Ah, you got me there. That’s more like it.”

Sunny was over the moon. “Yes!”

“I’ll get you two.” He motioned with both hands as if he were flipping open a balisong blade in each one. Sunny bounced in her seat, eyes beaming with excitement.

-

He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to wear the stupid wetsuit thing under his clothes. Maybe it was just to bring him closer to the fantasy - to give him some confidence. Maybe Jack was finally ready to actually start acting rather than fantasising.

For the first couple of weeks, though, he didn’t have the courage. He just walked around with a very warm cotton suit on under his clothing like a total mug. He just liked to think that soon he would be ready for it. He just needed an opportunity.

Then, in a familiar alley, an opportunity finally presented itself.

Clay was trying to jimmy open a car window, Marina hanging close by. She was tapping her foot on the ground impatiently, and when she heard Jack round the corner she yelled over her shoulder. She was only half looking at him.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Instinctually, he ducked behind the wall. No. He wasn’t going to run anymore. He tugged his shirt and hoodie off to reveal the suit underneath. In his backpack was a short staff he’d made from an old lacrosse stick.

When he stepped out this time, the reaction was a little more surprised. This time, Clay also turned to look at him, visibly confused by the sight of the specimen in front of him.

The suit was a deep green with accents of pale yellow running across the chest and down the legs. The mask had similar accents, too. Only his mouth and eyes could even be seen. His weapon was tucked behind his back, ready to strike when needed but concealing its size to keep them guessing.

“What the fuck do _you_ want?”

He stepped closer.

“I said, what the fuck do you-”

“What I want is to show a couple of worthless punks what happens when they fuck with other people’s stuff.”

Marina grinned, laughing through her teeth. Clay’s signature grin came out to join hers. The hulking country boy spoke, his voice deep and gravelly.

“And who are you, anyway? You’ve obviously gotten a little lost on your way to fuckin’ Gotham City. You got a fucking riddle for us?”

He stood his ground, and looked at them with a bit more confidence.

“Get away from that car.”

“What?”

“You can’t do whatever you want.”

Marina scoffed. “Oh, fuck you man.”

Then she threw the first punch. He hadn’t been expecting that. She had a steel ring on her middle finger and it snagged painfully on his cheek as he was hit. Clay loomed in close, ready to end him then and there.

Jack acted fast. He drew his staff and downed Clay with a single strike to the head, sending him to his knees. He had a burst of ego after that, turning to Marina who then dodged several swings from him. Shit. She was much faster than Clay.

She dodged towards his side, and he wondered why for a second until he felt it – sudden, excruciating pain in his abdomen. There was an intense feeling of _intrusion_ and then a sickening jolt of agony. The blade made a wet sound as she pulled it out, blood dripping from the wound. She immediately ran, hoping to not be seen. The attack had been impulsive, so she clearly recognised it as a mistake. He clutched his belly, lifting himself to his feet in an attempt to-

Then he was flying. His body hit the pavement hard when he landed. His eye snapped open. Only one eye opened, though, because for some reason he couldn’t open the other. There was a car. Fuck. He’d been knocked right off his feet by a _fucking_ car. He was distracted enough by the stab wound that the rest of him didn’t hurt, but there was a numbness all the way up one side and in parts of his legs and chest. His arm was killing, too. It was broken for sure. His abdomen spat out a gush of hot blood into his hands and onto the concrete. He heard the sound of it and felt like he could vomit, if he had the strength to even do that.

The driver sped away. He was lapsing out of consciousness for what felt like forever until the sound of an ambulance siren was unmistakeable. The pain was immeasurable now, but he didn’t even have the strength to cry out. Then he was being piled onto a stretcher and he grabbed the medic by the wrist.

“Please. Don’t tell anyone about the costume.”

His mask was being removed by one of the others and replaced with an oxygen breathing aid. The plastic dug into his face. The man nodded. “I won’t tell, don’t worry kid.”

He vaguely remembered the lights of the hospital and the feeling of needles in his skin. Then, he drifted off.


	2. Keep digging for the rest of your days.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack stumbles upon a surprisingly capable young girl on his quest to make Rose's problems go away.

“Why don’t I have a gun?”

Buffalo rolled her eyes. “Because you’re a doorman now, and you don’t need one.”

There was a look of clear embarrassment on Otter’s face. “But this outfit already makes me look a putz.” He whined.

She scoffed. “You look sharp – all those buttons? Eh? Now do your job and open the fucking door for me.”

He brushed the front of his black wool coat with both hands and eventually opened the door for her, holding it dutifully as the woman walked through. “Yeah, yeah. Have a nice day.”

She strolled over to the elevator and rode up to the apartment in silence.

The foyer was lavishly decorated with modern art, and garnished with colourful lighting. Past the staircases that led up to the bedrooms, the hallway was lined floor to ceiling with bespoke oak wood bookcases. Mrs. D’Amico had impeccable taste in design, from her beautiful vintage motorcycles to her Gucci swimsuits. It was no surprise her apartment was such a gorgeous place.

Buffalo made her way down the hallway and into the open plan living area where breakfast was spread out on a wide glass dining table. John was perusing a newspaper while Eva ate something that looked french and delicious. Eli was in the far corner hunched over a comic book and slowly picking at a fruit salad. That dumb kid never buttoned up his damn shirts. It was a good thing he’d started wearing things under them – his school faculty had had a few things to say after the first couple of days and he’d had a whole fight with his dad about it.

“Good morning, boss.”

“Raging Buffalo, how are you doing?”

Eli was watching out of the corner of his eye, glancing back and forth from his comic like he thought nobody could tell.

“I’m great boss.”

“Want some coffee?”

“Maybe later.” Buffalo turned to her boss’ wife. “Good morning, Eva.”

She greeted the lieutenant back, wiping her mouth delicately with a napkin. “Good morning, Buffalo.”

“Boss, we got a thing.” She paused to pick a muffin out from the platter that was at the edge of the table. “It’s, um, a big thing.”

He didn’t break eye contact with her, dropping his newspaper on the table and rising to his feet.

“Okay. Sorry, hon.”

Eva shrugged, tossing her pretty blonde hair. “Do what you have to do.”

Once they were in the hall, Eli immediately got up and gave chase.

“Where do you think you’re going, Eli?” His mother questioned as he rushed out of the room.

“I’m going to talk to dad.”

“Eliott, come back here!” She called out, purposely loud enough that her husband would hear her. “John, honey!”

Buffalo and her boss immediately whipped around to face the boy who stood with his hands tucked awkwardly into his jean pockets, dwarfed by the two of them. He awkwardly laughed.

His father looked him dead in the eyes. “Where are you going?”

“I… don’t mind you talking about business around me, father.” He chose his words carefully. “I was just going to sit in there and be quiet. I think it’s about time I started learning-”

He watched his son and smirked. “Eli, you speak in a british accent because you think it makes you look cool. Go finish your breakfast, kid.”

He threw one hand up in a dramatically exasperated gesture. “Damn it! It’s not even that long until I’m eighteen years old! Fuck.”

The kid walked back to his mother, frustrated.

D’Amico’s office was huge. Buffalo knew that no matter how hard she worked it was unlikely she’d ever have an office this huge. With huge Warhol paintings on either side of the double-door entrance and leather couches, this one room was nicer than her whole house.

“Take a seat.” John commanded. She immediately obeyed, sitting on the opposite coach to the one he sat on. “So, what’s the problem?”

She clasped her hands together, not pleased about having to break the news. “Just got word from our Russian. Raikov is saying that Octopus just sold him another five kilos at half price.”

John’s brow twitched inquisitively. “Wait, Octopus? _Octopus_ Octopus?”

“Right.” She stated, finishing her muffin. “ _Dead_ Octopus.”

“So…” He grunted. “Now a ghost is robbing us?”

Buffalo chuckled. “Yeah, that or Octopus was telling the truth.”

He frowned, rubbing at his bearded chin. “So my choice is to believe in ghosts, or to believe in a real superhero?”

She shrugged, tilting her head. “Well, maybe the superhero bit isn’t too easy to believe boss, but maybe someone really did gaffle him.”

D’Amico stared out the window at the cityscape for a moment. Buffalo could tell this was really messing with his head. This whole situation was seriously fucked up and he hated making mistakes that cost his own guys’ lives. He always said the worst thing about this work was how many guys were risking their damn lives.

“I think we’d better invite our Russian over for a chat.” He nodded slowly. “Yes, we’ll see what’s really going on.”

-

When Sunny came back into the safehouse, Huey was pinning up a picture of John D’Amico among a range of the gangster’s major players. Buffalo was there, along with the infamous hitman Revolver Ocelot. Even Kazuhira Miller, the ex-yakuza who had supposedly become friends with D’Amico after fighting with him. He had done his research and it was important to have visual reference for a project of this scale. He turned to her.

“Hey early bird! I was going to get you breakfast this morning, but you beat me to it.”

She set down the two cups of hot tea and the pastries she’d gone out to buy for them, grinning from ear to ear at her grandfather.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

He reached behind his writing desk to retrieve a little pink package and Sunny’s eyes lit up. Tearing away the paper she popped the case open to reveal a pair of brand new balisong blades.

“Oh, Thank you- _Th-thank you!”_

She hugged him tightly and squeezed her back, before letting her slip back out of his arms to fiddle with her new toy.

Sunny was fairly familiar with these types of knives anyway – this wasn’t her first set. These were bigger than her old ones, though, which were getting a bit worn out. She flicked and spun the blade open and closed repeatedly, and Huey noticed that one of the pictures on his diagram was coming loose. He leaned in to secure the paper to the wall a little better.

“G-Grandpa, look at this- you’re not l-looking!” She enthused, over the sound of metal gliding over itself.

-

After an exhausting day at school, Eli would sometimes find himself bored. If this was the case he might decide to mess around in his father’s office. It wasn’t as if he was childishly obsessed with his dad’s profession – well, he was, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, he was just eager to grow up. As far as he knew, there wasn’t any other life for him. His parents were his only adult role models, and they were criminals This was what he was doing at his father’s desk, brandishing his customised pistol and scolding a handful of imaginary subordinates.

“So the point is, some evil bastard is killing our people.” He squinted for dramatic effect, emphasising his practiced accent like a movie villain. “Until we find out who that is, I will not see any of you slacking off! What the fuck do you-”

The phone rang, and he scooped up the wireless receiver, immediately dropping the tough guy act.

“Uh, hello?”

“Eli? It’s Buffalo.”

“Hey, Buffalo! Yeah!”

It was kind of strange how most of his dad’s associates had animal nicknames except a select few, but he didn’t question it. He figured all crime families did cool shit like that.

“Your dad there?”

“Oh, he’s training right now. One second.”

He crossed the hallway, entering his father’s training room. He had an array of equipment for practicing close-quarters combat, and even a few weapons. Sometimes he would show Eli some of the special moves he had learned from his old boss, back when he was young enough to have one. He was busy striking a wooden dummy, immediately stopping when Eli came in.

“Dad. Phone for you.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s Buffalo.” He handed the phone to his dad, picking up a pair of nunchaku and practicing some of the few basic moves he knew. He was pretty sure he’d be really good at it soon.

“What’s the problem?”

“Yeah, so boss…”

Buffalo was standing in the unlit warehouse, the only significant light source coming from the machine behind her.

“It turns out we don’t have the vice here anymore.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm, but we _do_ have this brand new industrial microwave. They use it to treat lumber.” She looked back at the hulking mass of metal that was casting blue-ish light around the room.

“Well, that is neat.” The boss muttered. Then he growled. “But I don’t give a shit about the lumber.”

“A-Alright, boss. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just do what I asked.”

Then the boss hung up. She turned to her guys, who were dragging Ivan Raikov towards the open door of the massive thing. “Alright, come on now.”

The Russian was just a flashy pretty-boy with a bad attitude. You got your fair share of those in this line of work. He kicked and fussed as Mantis and Wolf dragged him to the microwave.

“Hey come on, the guys told me that he was Decoy Octopus. I didn’t know any better!” He whined, his accent thick.

“Shut up, Raikov.”

“Now you’re saying he’s dead?” They threw him inside, dripping with sweat and trembling. “I think he lied- he lied about the superhero but-“ Then he was shut inside and they could barely hear him.

Mantis spoke, his voice muffled by that gas mask he wore. Nobody really cared about it since the boss hired his fair share of oddballs.

“Does this work like an ordinary microwave?”

Buffalo threw her hands up. “Fuck, I dunno. We’re not making a supermarket curry here, are we? Turn it on.”

He set the timer to five minutes and then stepped back. “Well, there we go.”

Raikov immediately looked uncomfortable – that is, more uncomfortable than he had already been. He looked like he was nauseous and panicking. Buffalo tried to ask questions.

“Okay, now we need to know who sold you the cocaine.” She pointed at him accusingly. “I would prefer you told me somebody alive this time.”

Raikov grimaced and swayed, looking increasingly like he was about to vomit as the machine hummed quietly. Wolf looked at him then at Buffalo, throwing her hands up.

“Can he hear us? I don’t know if he can hear in there.”

Buffalo tried shouting this time, as Raikov clutched at his long, light hair.

“I said, who really sold you our coke?!” She repeated, exaggerating her mouth movements to ensure that he could read her lips if he needed to.

He was tangling his own hands into his hair frantically, his eyes unfocused and his teeth gritted. He looked like he was trying to hold his own head on in case it popped right off his neck.

She tried gesturing this time, to make it even easier to understand. She separated the words out with pauses. “Who – sold – you –“ She mimed, as his eyes widened and he tilted back and forth even more than before. “- our – coke?”

Then he exploded. His entire body was turned to pieces and mush in about half a second, splattered all over the machine’s window in a bloody smear. Some pieces of flesh and viscera stuck to the huge pool of blood and some just slid down the glass pathetically.

“Oh, shit.”

Everybody else seemed very entertained, though, laughing and hooting as Buffalo paced and palmed at her own forehead.

-

Apparently he could have died from the blood loss. That was what he had been told. The surgery to save all his broken bones and damaged organs took quite some time and all kinds of shit had to be done to put him back together. He had pins and implants all over his body, not just holding everything in place but also fortifying him. His father’s health insurance covered all sorts of bells and whistles.

When his dad came to pick him up, he had made a joke about being like wolverine and about the school metal detectors. His dad had been a bit too concerned to laugh at his little quips.

His bones were full of pins and other metal fixtures, which had helped them to heal correctly. He had nanomachines in his heart and lungs that helped correct the trauma that had been inflicted on them – his left lung had apparently taken quite a lot of damage. As a plus, the nanites seemed to improve his circulation and he felt more energised than before. At first he had believed it was his medication but once he was out of recovery and ready to go back to school, he still felt that slight difference in the way his chest rose and fell. His blood was essentially infused with energy drink. He still noticed how much more stamina he had. There was even some permanent nerve damage, so some parts of his body just felt partially numb. He could be tapped on one shoulder without even noticing. He could trip and smash his knee against a sharp corner and not be incapacitated by the pain. The nanites in his blood stream would lessen the bruising, too. It was like some kind of weird, pathetic super power.

A sane person would have taken this accident as a sign to stop playing superhero.

However, as he sat in the cafeteria with Emma and Sam who were making obscene gestures at each other with their food, he couldn’t help but feel that itch in the back of his mind still. Being stabbed in the guts and bowled down by a car wasn’t enough to kill the desire he’d unintentionally planted in himself. At this rate it felt like nothing would.

“Hey, Jack. Do you feel this?” Emma shoved him in the shoulder and he barely felt even a touch.

“Not really.”

Sam laughed. “What about this?” He said, flicking him directly on the face.

Jack sighed. “No, I can’t feel much.”

A little hint of worry flickered onto Emma’s face. “You alright? You seem miles away, man.”

He grinded a palm against his face and smiled. “Don’t worry. Just a lot on my mind.”

She stuffed a mouthful of creamed potatoes into her mouth.

“It’s fine. You got stabbed, dude.” She muttered through her full mouth. “You’ve got a right to feel a bit weird.”

Sam grunted. “If I got run over I’d be back on my feet. I’d kick the guy’s ass.”

“No you would _not,_ Sam. You actually peed that one time someone pulled a knife.”

“Oh my _god,_ it was only a little bit!”

“A little bit of pee, Sam.” She swallowed her potatoes. “A little bit of pee in your underwear and your pants.”

He flicked a piece of chicken at her and she dodged.

Jack laughed, finally letting himself enjoy the moment. He would have to continue his exercise regimen soon.

He overheard Rose and her friends muttering, one of them mentioning his name. He inadvertently tuned in.

“Wait- you’re saying Eli… huh? And Jack is what?”

He didn’t hear anything more than that, as the girls shushed each other.

-

After class, he moved towards his locker awkwardly, only to see Rose was right there again. He tried not to be noticed, too anxious after his long hospital stay to talk to anybody.

“Hey.”

He checked that Helena wasn’t around, and Rose chuckled.

“Jack, hey.”

“Oh.” She _was_ talking to him. “H-Hey.”

“How are you? You definitely seem to be in decent shape.”

Emma and Sam were a little way down the hall, watching and nudging each other.

“I feel fine, yeah. I’m better.”

“You’re into comics right?” She gleamed up at him. “Me and Helena sometimes hang out after school at Outer Heaven Comix, and they make the _best_ white chocolate mocha.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Emma and Sam were watching. He was nervous. “Yeah? I haven’t tried it.”

“Um, I could buy you one sometime, if you- well if you need somebody to talk to.”

He was amazed. “Sure. Thank you.”

He couldn’t believe it. A pretty person like Rose was asking him out on a date. If it were socially acceptable to pinch himself he might be tempted to do it.

“Sweet! See you later.”

He closed his locker and hurried over to where his two friends were.

“Did you two see that?”

Emma bit her lip. “Yeah…”

“Rose offered to buy me coffee!”

She grimaced. “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s what it looks like.”

He shook his head, confused. “What are you yapping about, E.E?”

Sam was equally chagrined by the whole situation.

“Well, you know how she’s all about lame ducks?”

Jack squinted at him. “Lame _ducks?”_

“Not literal ducks.” He grinned.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know, the people who are in weird situations that she can hang out with to serve her hero complex.”

“Because I got hurt?”

“No…” She hesitated. “She feels bad for you for another reason.”

He raised his eyebrow as they both guided him towards the door.

Sam muttered to him. “There’s a rumour going around.”

“Right.”

“About you…”

“I’m what?”

He sucked air through his teeth. “Dating Eli D’Amico.”

“What? _Eli?”_

They made their way to the comic book store, discussing this preposterous bullshit.

“I don’t understand. What kind of rumour is that?”

Emma gestured wildly with both hands. “Well, you know… that time at the comic store…”

“Yeah, but you guys were there too!”

She mumbled. “Yeah, but we didn’t go talk to him and run away flustered…”

“But I was just running away because his bodyguard made me!”

Sam added, “People think you got stabbed by like, his dad’s rival gang or something.”

“What? It was Marina and Clay!”

Emma rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, pal. It’s fine. _We_ know you’re not really in a dangerous relationship with a gangster’s kid. Rumours don’t mean dick.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Who knows, it might get you laid!”

Emma frowned. “Not if she thinks he’s in a relationship, Sam – you huge fucking idiot.”

“Wow. Mean.”

-

He really should have quit. Any reasonable person would have, but he felt like this was who he was. He felt like this was his real purpose in life.

He started a blog, calling himself “Kick-Ass” which he thought had a nice ring to it. Jack even made sure that his new email address was attached in the description, and his askbox open too so that people could contact him anonymously.

This would be the night he wore his costume out on the streets for real.

It turned out fighting crime wasn’t as straight-forward as he had imagined. He just ended up picking up a poster for a missing cat and searching for it, asking people if they had seen Sahalanthro-puss. It was a dumb name for a cat anyway.

Most people either ignored him, said they hadn’t seen the cat or just moved on. Some of them laughed when they thought he was out of earshot.

He stopped at a convenience store to buy himself a drink. The cashier looked at him a little strangely, what with the wet suit and mask.

Leaving the store, he looked up at the billboard outside to see a cat on the railing that matched the photograph on the poster exactly.

“Oh, great.”

As if today hadn’t been bad enough he now had to climb onto that flimsy-looking steel platform and grab the damn cat.

“Here, kitty. Sahalanthro-puss!” He tried to usher the cat closer, but the poor thing seemed confused and stuck.

It was a little scary climbing up the ladder, but it had to be done. Unfortunately the cat only walked further up the platform.

“No! Come on, kitty.” He wiggled his finger, clinging to the platform with one hand. “Let’s get you home. Come on.”

Giving up on this approach, he tried to clamber onto the platform. When his grip failed him he started to flail his legs in panic and that only shifted him further off. Eventually he slipped off until he was dangling hopelessly. He looked up at the cat, who had travelled all the way across.

“Oh, fuck you Sahalanthro-puss.” He muttered to himself, dropping down a few metres and landing on his back on the wet concrete. Almost immediately, a guy tripped over him and rolled onto his own back. He was a little younger than Jack was, with a kind of Hispanic accent and striking blond hair against his tan skin. If Jack had to guess he’d say he was from Brazil or Costa Rica.

“Oh, I’m so sorry man-“

“You fucking green-“

Then some scary guy was fucking _kicking_ him back down. His two friends were quickly at his sides helping him pick up the poor man. He turned to Jack.

“Thanks!”

Then he punched the man in the stomach, and the face. The guy was defenceless.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Jack said, getting between the four guys.

He was pushed back by one of them, who grunted. “None of your business.”

He growled. “Yes it is.”

Then he was taking out the two batons he had harnessed to his back, and rushing in.

He wouldn’t go down so easily this time. There were more opponents but he was ready. He struck out at them, pushing them back for a moment so he could position himself in front of the Costa Rican guy. One managed to grapple him and dropped him on the floor. The other two started punching him. He couldn’t feel it very much at all. Those fucked up nerves were doing him a lot of good. He kicked one of them over and battered the other two’s legs out from under them.

When he rose to his feet, some kid was standing there stunned by what he was seeing.

“Hey you, call 911!”

He ran back into the fray, taking a kick and a punch here and there but dealing a fair number of blows to his three opponents. The difference was, they felt the pain far more than he did. One of them threw a trash can at him but he didn’t fall. He stayed close to the downed man, standing over him and knocking the guys back to the best of his ability. They gave up, clutching their arms and ribs as they fell back.

One of them pulled a knife and suddenly it was that alleyway with Marina all over again. That kid had gathered people from inside the store to the window to watch.

“Give him up, man. Walk away.” The man demanded, panting and bruised.

He stared him down. “No.”

“The fuck, man? You’re willing to die for a shitty stranger?”

He pointed towards the window with one of his batons. “The alternative is three guys beating up on a teenager while everybody watches! I think I _would_ rather die.”

Then the guy realised they had an audience he quickly put his weapon away.

“You’re fucking crazy, kid.”

They scattered.

“Fuck.”

“Th- thank you, mister.” The blond boy thanked him breathlessly and before he knew it that kid from earlier was looking over him with his phone out. He had been filming the whole thing. Never mind calling the police, then.

“That was amazing! Who are you?”

He looked up and without thinking he stated, “I’m Kick-Ass.”

-

The footage was viral within several days. It was uploaded and re-uploaded, people made theories on forum sites about whether or not it was faked and there were screenshots being edited into templates to make shitty memes and pop-culture references. The stupid clip even ended up on the news, and had a mention on a few talk shows.

He’d never been particularly popular on social media, but Kick-Ass’ blog was getting tons of activity and engagement. The number of people following was staggering – eventually he had thousands of them.

When he entered Outer Heaven Comix a week later, there was merchandise, a special called “Kick-Ass Cappuccino” and even replicas of his costume.

“What happened?”

Emma gestured towards a mannequin sporting a green wetsuit. “This guy right here, fool!”

A poster stated that a comic was in the works with a local publisher, its release date to be announced.

Someone was playing a video on their laptop nearby, of him fighting with roblox sound-effects imposed over every impact. The group huddled around it were giggling like little kids.

This was unreal.

-

Sunny turned to her grandfather.

“He’s quite good, d-don’t you think Grandpa? E-everyone likes him.”

Hal smirked, fingers wrapped tightly around his sturdy biceps.

“He’s very good at getting his ass kicked. Maybe it should be Ass-Kick instead of Kick-Ass.” He snorted.

She looked confused. “I don’t get that j-j-joke grandpa. It’s not very g-g-good.”

“Never mind.”

But his blood was pumping hard, his nanomachines whirring angrily in his veins. He wanted to know more about this weirdo.

-

Eli was watching the clip closely, mesmerised by how he endured pain and followed his momentum. He fought like an amateur but he fought with dedication. The guy had spectacular reflexes and pain tolerance – maybe he had nanomachines in him like his dad’s guys. A lot of people were getting those now, so long as they could afford it.

He would be lying if his eyes didn’t wander to his lower body, too. The footage was shaky but Eli could undeniably see that costume hugged his thighs and backside. His physique was fairly strong, and even a little bit effeminate.

He shifted nervously, not wanting to pop a boner in front of his family.

“This Kick-Ass guy is amazing.”

“Yeah, he’s just another weirdo. It’s New York, and we don’t exactly have a shortage.” His father grunted dismissively, his large arm wrapped around Eva’s shoulders.

Eli snorted. “Well, if I had a problem I’d be glad to have a guy like that on call.”

“I have a hundred people on call to solve a problem, and you’d hire a total putz stranger in a costume?”

He fiddled with his hands, thinking about Kick-Ass’ breathless voice. Not just that, but his mouth. The mask left his mouth exposed completely, his lips soft and full. He was excited just thinking about meeting a guy like that.

“Well I wouldn’t want to get involved with your business where you don’t want me to.” He mumbled, standing up to go upstairs.

He’d been reading too many comics, if he was getting horny over a guy in tight spandex. Once his hormones calmed down he’d probably be able to laugh at this memory. Right now, though, he touched himself feverishly under his blankets. He bit down on his forearm and whimpered.

He’d just die for a chance to see him up close.

-

“You don’t actually read comics?” Jack asked, a little perplexed.

“Oh, I do. I just started.” Rose corrected him, tucking her long hair behind her ear. “I used to be more into movies but I’m branching out. My friend got me some volumes of Scott Pilgrim, and lent me some of her shoujo manga.”

He nodded.

“But I don’t know how I feel about superheroes yet.”

He sipped the sweet hot coffee, surprised by just how much he liked the chocolate flavouring. “Not gonna line up for Kick-Ass then?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” She gripped her mug tightly, as if craving its warmth. “But I want to send him an ask or an email some time. I could use some kind of support right now.”

“Help?” He looked up, concerned. “What with?”

She hesitated. “Well, you know how I volunteer at the needle exchange…”

“I did not know that, no.” He smiled, impressed. He’d never met somebody so charitable. “That’s cool.”

“There’s a guy… I felt really sorry for him. His name is Adrian but his friends call him Vamp? Some kinda goth thing, combined with an inside joke about being bisexual. He’s Romanian, kind of mysterious.”

He listened closely, watching her brow twitch with anxiety.

“I felt horrible for him when I found out about his past and stuff; all the tragedy in his life. His boyfriend had just left him, really messily and…”

She stopped, looking up at him in amazement.

“This is weird, how quickly I’m opening up to you. Normally I’m the one being a shoulder to cry on.”

They both laughed awkwardly.

“Can I say something?” She grabbed his hands, sending electricity through his body. “I’ve always wanted a friend like you, you know? Is it okay to say that?”

He nodded coyly. “Yeah.”

“I really don’t want to sound like I’m patronising you about your sexuality or your victimhood.”

Oh. Of course.

“I don’t think you’re so kind just because of your situation and your plight.”

He paused for a moment just looking at her, processing the lie before he said it. He looked around the room nervously and caught Sam and Emma by the bar waiting for their drinks. They both gestured wildly at him. Thank fucking god Rose didn’t see them.

“Of course you don’t think that. It’s fine, I promise.”

-

Jack didn’t quite know if he was the right fit for Rose’s perfect ‘troubled best friend with a heart of gold’ but he tried. He liked her, and being able to spend time with her was wonderful. Sure, she was convinced he was in a tragic romance beset on all sides by gang violence. That didn’t bother him too much. He was lying, but he wasn’t the one that started the rumour.

Eventually she did send Kick-Ass an anonymous message. This particular lame duck was a real piece of work. She didn’t want him to return the money he’d borrowed, or to apologise for all the times he lashed out or made her worry. All she really wanted was for him to understand she didn’t want to see him anymore. He needed to understand that they were through. Jack was glad to help her with this.

The guy waiting outside looked intimidating in an odd-ball fashion. He had roller skates on and a big pair of headphones. His huge coat was pulled up over the lower half of his face. His accent was thick, so Jack could tell he was from Queens. Jack’s suit amused him.

“Who are you supposed to be? We aren’t hosting a convention, kid.”

“I’m here to see Adrian.”

The guy didn’t respond.

“You know…” He looked left and right. “Vamp?”

“And who the fuck are you? Got a problem?”

He almost said _“I’m Kick-Ass!”_ again, carried away in the moment. He stopped himself.

“I’m Rose’s friend, actually.”

The man reluctantly let him in, closing the door behind him but not without looking him up and down mockingly.

He could hear someone playing videogames loudly in the main room of the apartment, and the place smelled awful. It smelled like cigarettes and marijuana and body odour. A guy was fiddling with some music equipment in the corner, making amateur electronic music. Jack was glad he couldn’t hear it thanks to the guy’s headphones. A couple of people were smoking, taking various illicit substances on the couches that surrounded the TV. They wore mostly black, looking quite intoxicated.

A man with long black hair was tapping away at his controller furiously, playing Bayonetta. The titular character twirled on screen to dodge the boss’ attacks but seemingly he wasn’t doing too well – he wasn’t managing to quite hit witch time.

“So which one of you is Vamp?” He timidly asked.

A woman who looked a little dishevelled turned around on the couch and stood up. She was wearing a short black leather dress, and a white body harness that hugged her bountiful chest. Her arms were tattooed all the way down and her jet black hair looked messy. So this was the company Vamp kept? He had thought Rose might have been exaggerating. 

“I’m Vamp obviously…” She stuck her tongue out, skipping across the room to get a beer out of the cooler.

As she bent over he saw a glimpse of her underwear and he quickly looked away, embarrassed.

When he looked away from the particularly flirtatious emo girl, his eyes fell back on the guy playing the game as he spoke with a distinctive Romanian tone.

“Eugh. More damage.” He grunted. “Who’s asking?”

“I, well, have a message from Rose.”

He flinched, pausing the game and picking the menthol cigarette from between his lips.

“Rose?” He turned to look over his shoulder.

The guy’s face was angular and threatening. He was extremely pale and had a slight beard. That was him, alright.

“So you’re Vamp? Adrian, I should say.” He started walking towards him, feeling bolder now that he knew who the guy was. “Well, you need to stay away from Rose now because she says it’s over. Everything will be fine as long as you leave her alone.”

“What?” He looked unbelievably pissed off.

Vamp rose to his feet and Jack realised just how tall he was.

“Kid, who the hell are you? What is this?”

He stared him down. “I’m Kick-Ass. Look me up. I’m giving you a message – leave Rose alone, Adrian.”

The others started to rise to their feet. The flirtatious emo girl pulled her brow into a frown. A couple of guys who had been smoking and watching Vamp play got up, looking him up and down. Another girl who had been smoking from a bong also turned to watch, crossing her arms. Before he knew it he was surrounded by threatening gazes. Vamp sneered.

“Or what?”

He was nervous now, yet again. In fact he was more nervous than he had been earlier.

“Or I’ll come back, and, uh… I’ll break your fucking legs.” He spat, amazed with himself afterwards.

“Alright, handsome. Very funny. Come here.” He started to close in on Jack, flexing his muscles through his form-fitting black t-shirt.

Jack pulled out his tazer.

His dad had gotten it for him after he had been mugged. He’d told him to carry it all the time in case anybody tried to victimise him again. Jack internally apologised to his father for using it in a way he hadn’t intended.

Vamp fell to the floor, shouting in pain. Everyone panicked, the two girls shrinking away and the two guys grabbing Jack to throw him down. He was pinned.

When Vamp eventually stopped twitching and screaming, he looked up. There was a war path reflected in his red eyes – coloured contacts?

Jack desperately tried to scramble further away but he was being held down by two men who were stronger than him. Even his nanomachines weren’t good enough to make up for the difference.

Vamp pulled a blade out from his belt, running his tongue slowly along the flat of the blade.

“You’re fucking dead-“

Then he was impaled, stopped dead in his tracks by the blade protruding from his chest. It had slid right between his ribs and through his heart. He looked horrified as he fell to the floor, the blade sliding back out of him.

A little girl stood over his body, dressed in a black and purple get-up with a pleated pink skirt and her hair hidden under a shoulder-length purple wig. Her face was obscured by the most stereotypical superhero eye mask he had ever seen. She spoke confidently and venomously, but with a prominent stutter.

“Alright, you c-c-c-cunts! Who wants to die f-f-f-first?”

She scouted the room, motioning with her finger to count each person.

All Jack could do was cower against the wall, confused and amazed by what was happening.

The child turned to see one of the guys brandishing a whiskey bottle which she quickly knocked out of his hand. Another guy came over with a knife and she dodged it expertly, slicing his shoulder with precision. He cried out and stumbled.

She whipped around. Another knife wielding thug. She swung her upper body and flipped herself over, landing a hard kick to the top of his head and incapacitating him. As he fell he knocked over a tray of powder – Jack couldn’t even guess what drug it was – and particles floated on the air.

She crossed the room to stab one of them in the kidney. Her moves were perfectly co-ordinated and fluid. She wasted no time. She flaired her bladed staff around a bit and impaled the man she had downed with her kick. Blood poured out from between his lips as she sliced through his lung and heart. She had a smile on her face, like this was a goddamn theme park experience.

Jack was panicking, short of breath and trembling as he watched her hack off the leg of a man wielding a metal baseball bat. The guy went down like a house of cards and she stabbed him while he was down. She looked up at him. Jack did his best not to scream in terror for what was happening in front of him.

The girl from earlier had slipped away from her seat and the child turned to look at her. She freed her weapon from the corpse under her knee and launched herself at the woman, who used a nearby standing lamp to catch the blow. She fell back, and the kid just stabbed her once, twice, three times. Jack whimpered.

Another woman emerged from the bathroom, a little older. She was finishing a cigarette when she was stopped by the mess. On instinct she brought out a balisong. Jack had seen them in the movies, watching her flip the blade open expertly and bare her teeth at the little girl.

“Oh, a b-b-balisong! I have one of those.”

She dropped her staff and slipped her own blade out from her belt, opening it, spinning it around in her hands a few times. The woman looked nervous. The girl crossed the room again, rushing at her full-pelt until the knife was lodged in her ribs and she was sent flying back into the toilet.

That left the flirtatious one. She stood in a wide stance, trying to figure out what move to make. Eventually she settled for grabbing a bottle from a nearby shelf and breaking it against the table, sneering at the kid and brandishing the sharp glass. Wine spilled all over the table and onto the carpet.

The child slid across the floor to retrieve her staff and the emo made a break for it. She dashed towards the front door but it was too late. Jack watched, bewildered, through the doorframe as the child twisted the middle part of her staff apart, producing two short swords. She plunged them into the woman’s body, wet patches spreading through her clothes and a torrent of blood gushing out from the bottom of her dress. It poured down her thighs and she crumpled to the floor, revealing to small holes the blades had made in the front door.

Jack tried to get his breath back, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

What the fuck kind of mess had he stumbled into this time?


	3. If we don't know where we belong, it'll make no difference from where we started.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John D'Amico is at the end of his tether.  
> Eli finally gets to meet his hero.  
> Emma has a gay crisis, and so does Jack.

Jack gasped in shock, finally allowing himself to breathe as the child crossed what was left of the room towards him. The place looked like a fucking war zone. Instinctively, he pointed his taser at her but the damn thing was empty. The cartridges were only good for one use, apparently.

“Wow, d-dude. That taser f-f-f-fucking sucks.” She teased, hands on hips like she was straight up mocking him. Not that he could call her out on it.

“Relax though. We’re on the s… same team.”

She looked down to reconnect her two blades into their original staff formation, and Jack saw the door swing quietly open behind her. He jolted in shock.

“G-get up.”

He lifted a shaking finger, desperately trying to muster the courage to say something as the guy from outside quietly wheeled up behind her.

He didn’t need to, though.

In what couldn’t have been more than half a second after passing the threshold, the guy’s skull picked that exact moment to pop open in two places. That, or he’d been sniped through the window. That was probably more likely. He flopped loudly to the floor onto his heavy side, blood spewing out from the exit wound.

The kid looked up frantically, then leaned her head to the side like she was concentrating on hearing something that he couldn’t.

“…Y-yeah, back to the wall. I’m sorry Grandpa. Promise I won’t d-d-do it again.”

She glanced through the window, assumedly to address the source of assistance.

“N-nice shot.”

She wasted no time, pulling out a duffle bag from her utility belt and shaking it open to fill it up with everything of value. Jack watched her toss stacks of cash in there, and fairly thick bags of some kind of drug. He didn’t exactly know all the… breeds of drug.

He rose to his feet quietly so as to not disturb her as the plundered the apartment. Once she was done she shot him an over-shoulder glance and told him it was time to go. He almost went for the door but she gripped his forearm assertively. Jack almost jumped out of his own skin.

“C-c-c… Can’t use the front door now, you f-f-fucking fool.” She teased him again and led the way to the window she’d likely snuck in through.

The two of them made their way up the steel fire escape stairs, and the girl ran across the rooftop several feet in front of him.

“Wait, wait!” Jack called out before she had a chance to disappear.

“What?” She tilted her head.

“Uh, who are you?”

She stopped, thinking about it for a second. “Me?”

Then she cracked a cocky, confident grin. “I’m H-Hit Girl.”

Looking over her shoulder she acknowledged a much more adult, pitch black figure standing a fair distance away on a billboard platform. Jack thought he looked a little bit like Batman.

“And that’s Big Daddy.”

Jack timidly waved at the frighteningly silent man who seemed to be staring him down with an analytical gaze. He gestured, pointing to Jack and pressing a finger to his lips before dragging it across his throat abruptly. The message was clear.

“Come on.” She called to him, racing to the edge of the roof top and leaping off, landing with a perfect impact-absorbing roll on a nearby roof that was a couple of stories lower. She looked up at him expectantly. “C-Come on!”

Jack just looked at her, and then the gap. He froze in fear and shook his head. Now this was fucking embarrassing.

She looked at him like he was a complete disappointment, before taking off. She climbed onto the platform to exchange a high-five with Big Daddy, who was probably the “Grandpa” she’d been speaking to before if the rifle on his back was any evidence to go off of. The two of them hooked lines from their belts onto the railings and abseiled down to street level, out of sight.

He came home exhausted, since he had travelled on foot. As usual, he snuck in through his window. Still, he felt different.

Hit Girl and Big Daddy were the real deal. He was just a stupid dick wearing a wetsuit that he found online.

He slipped the mask off of his tired, puffy face and flopped onto his bed where he sighed through a whirlwind of emotions. Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep.

-

Scanning the blurry photo on the cracked screen of the iPhone, John frowned incredulously. The man in the picture really was wearing all black, and he hated to admit it but he did look a little like Batman.

“What is this? What am I looking at?” He looked up at Buffalo in defeat.

She was leaning on her hand, pulling it away from her face to gesture at the mobile device.

“This is Wallaby’s phone. They found it in her hand. She must have taken those pictures right before she died.” Her boss still said nothing, so she cleared her throat and continued. “I know this sounds fucked up, Boss, but that guy in the picture might just be that nut-job superhero from the TV.”

“Who?” He stared at her, shocked. “Kick-Ass?”

She shrugged, palms open. This was the only conclusion she’d been able to draw.

“One guy? You think he’d gotten this good? Also, the costume is different.”

Buffalo scoffed. “Well, he could easily have more than one. You know how some of these cosplay fanatics are.”

“So you’re telling me one guy might have killed eight of my men tonight?”

Mantis stepped across the room, carrying a tray from the bar with the coffees they had asked for. This was his favourite room on the whole floor, so he was happy to make drinks for everybody here. He said he liked the space. He nodded to both of them as he deposited their drinks in front of their respective seats.

“Thanks, Mantis.” Buffalo nodded back before turning to explain the situation further. “Actually, eight at Wallaby’s little get-together… and four more at that kid Vamp’s. Some other casualties there, but four of ours.”

“So…” He sipped his drink slowly. “We have no merchandise on the street right now?”

“Correct.”

He looked down at the phone again. “And you still think this was one man?”

“I do think so, yeah.”

He grunted in frustration. “If you’re right, Buffalo, we’re going to look like a huge band of weak cowards. The weakest in New York.”

“What do you want me to do?” She asked, genuinely lacking direction. She’d never seen something like this happen.

He thought for a moment, stared into the oil-black surface of his coffee and told her bluntly. “I want Kick-Ass’s fucking head. I want it now.”

-

Jack woke to a loud thud as a heavy boot collided with his bed frame. He grunted in surprise, and darted towards his light switch. He knew who it was.

“I- I didn’t say anything to anyone, I swear!” He urged in a trembling voice.

Big Daddy finally spoke, his voice awkward and uncharacteristically un-cool. He sounded very much like an aging nerd, for such a large and intimidating man.

“Good move, Ass-Kick. Let’s keep it that way.”

That wasn’t the right name, but Jack decided not to address that. Hit Girl pulled out a little plastic case.

“You know what this is?”

He shook his head.

“It’s the l-little c-c-c-cartridge your shitty taser craps out when you fire it.” Her weight was shifted onto one leg, relaxed. “You do know the police could have t-t-traced this right back to you if they found it? But lucky for you, I picked it up.”

She held it out and Jack stepped forward to try and accept it. “Thank you so much.”

Big Daddy grabbed his wrist, sitting him on the edge of his bed and removing the cartridge from his hand. Jesus Christ, this guy was absurdly strong even for a grown man. He had spun Jack around with incredible ease.

“Let’s call it insurance. It makes it easier for us to take your word. We like you, but we don’t trust you.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. Hit Girl spoke again.

“Don’t take it personal though because we don’t t-trust anybody.”

Big Daddy smirked. “I rerouted your IP address. Finding you was easy.”

“Oh shit. Shit, I hadn’t thought of- my God, I owe you.”

They watched him closely. “You know, I’ve been thinking about shutting down the stupid blog anyways and quitting. I mean this… fucking intense. I’m in way over my head.”

Hit Girl examined his face. “It’s a shame. You’ve got potential.”

“Your call.” Big Daddy gestured. “You know we’re around if you need us.”

“How do I get a hold of you?”

Hit Girl giggled as she cracked a joke. “Contact the Mayor’s office and he’ll use the signal he shines in the sk… sky. It’s shaped like a giant c-c-c-cock.”

Big Daddy shook his head. “If you need us, put a vacation hiatus notice on your page. We’ll find you. Now, Hit Girl, back to headquarters.”

The two of them made a swift exit through the window, disappearing from his reality yet again, as quickly as they had arrived.

-

“I need you to get rid of Kick-Ass.”

Buffalo sat quietly and well-behaved on one of John’s office couches while he made the call. He didn’t like having to call Ocelot and interrupt his work.

“Whoa, Boss. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” John didn’t mean to sound so pissed off, but he couldn’t help it. “Kick-Ass is killing my men, Ocelot, that’s what’s going on.”

“My condolences, Boss but I’m afraid I can’t help you out on this one.” Ocelot admitted, picking at the array of snacks on his desk. Having a man in the force was important, and Ocelot was one of the best double-agents John had ever had the pleasure of meeting. “It’s a little bit outside of my jurisdiction around here.”

John growled. “Outside your jurisdiction? Ocelot, you’re a cop and he’s breaking the law so I’d say it’s very much inside your jurisdiction.”

“Listen, Boss.” Ocelot said, level-headed and calm. “Listen. The cops pay me to take care of criminals and you pay me not to. Everything else is not that simple. I can only pass you information and protect our guys.”

“Look, Adam. Just do it.” He grunted, hanging up and tossing his phone onto his desk.

He looked up at Buffalo, who’d been listening keenly to the conversation.

“This is fucking unbelievable. Where’s Eagle? He’s late.”

-

“Thank you, Eagle. We appreciate your co-operation.”

Eagle looked up, smiling nervously as a film of sweat built up on his face. He lifted his wrists, shaking the cuffs that connected him to the steering wheel. “Good. Can you let me out? I gave you the names and addresses. Come on, I won’t say nothing to anybody.”

He was gradually getting agitated, glaring down at the two of them through the windshield of his car. He’d just gotten the damn thing waxed, and here he was about to be squished up in it in some shitty junkyard. The machine that surrounded him was huge and jaw-like.

“See, now you and your crazy midget friend can go bask whoever you want- come on. I know some bad people uptown, really nasty individuals. Let me go. Don’t do this!”

Big Daddy turned and smiled at Hit Girl, who had her little hand lingering over the switchboard. He nodded and she flipped the power switch, turning the knob to activate the hydraulic press mechanism.

“Come on, shit… Please! Hey!”

The sound of the machine whirring to life was all he could hear anymore. He was openly crying at this point, shaking and short of breath. Hit Girl gripped the handle of the press control switch and pushed it steadily forward, bringing down those huge mechanical jaws on his vehicle and slowly crushing the lower three quarters of his body in the process. He creamed and thrashed as his ankles were broken, then his shins. The mechanism opened again and she began the second phase, crushing him with even more pressure until his torso split under the pressure, a spurt of blood shooting out of his upper body from an undetermined point. It was hard to see what was happening through the shattered glass and the mess of metal and leather that had once been his car. She continued to compress the vehicle until the process was fully complete, squashing it into a neat little cuboid of dense metal.

As the remains dropped unceremoniously onto the concrete, she watched it settle.

“What a d-d-d-douche.”

-

Jack adjusted the gloves until they were fitted more snugly onto his hands.

“Have you done self tan before?” Rose asked, her own gloved hands covering her breasts as she stood in her underwear in front of her bedroom mirror. God, she was gorgeous.

“Yeah, yeah I have.”

Jack quickly poured the solution into his hands, moving in behind her to help her apply it. He massaged the tan lotion into her shoulders and back for her.

Since involving himself with real life superheroes, drug dealers and murder it seemed like things would never go back to normal. Even average days like this felt completely surreal and distant.

“By the way, I read those old Ditko Spider-Man comics you let me borrow. They’re pretty good.”

He muttered, distant. “Yeah, they are.”

“It’s been a whole week since I heard anything from Vamp, too.”

He felt his pulse rise at the mention of the man he’d watched Hit Girl viciously slaughter. He did his best to maintain his composure, forcing a smile.

“That’s… great.”

-

Hal wiggled the device until it started moving again, clicking into place as the lock was opened. He withdrew the tools and quietly pushed the door open, checking that his badge was ready at his hip. The last thing he needed was for somebody to mistake him for a burglar and shoot him, or some shit. He needed to make it very clear that he had federal clearance.

He scanned the hallway until his eyes settled on a door that was remarkable undecorated. Knowing his father, this was probably the best place to look. He pressed his way inside, shocked by the sheer size of the arsenal that lined the walls of the safe-room. Everything from pistols to sub-machine guns to actual machine guns was here. There was even a rocket launcher snugly attached to one wall, and a few sniper rifles.

Most impressively, he had a corkboard set-up on one wall with pictures of various scary-looking guys. Some of these guys Hal recognised – the Bureau kept a close eye on a lot of wealthy people in New York, especially wealthy Italians who kept their lives shrouded in secrecy. It was just common sense.

In the desk beneath were a lot of loose papers, but one thing stood out to him in particular. There was a comic book here, drawn and bound by hand. The cover read “Big Daddy and Hit Girl.” He switched on the desk lamp and sat down to examine the contents.

It was written like it was for fairly young kids, but the subject matter was definitely not child friendly.

_Once upon a time there were a couple of super cops, called Olga (mommy) and David. They were great at catching bad guys._

Hal swallowed hard at the sight of David, the love of his life and Olga, his good friend. What the fuck was his dad doing writing comics about their lives?

John D’Amico was the baddest guy ever, and he came up with a plan to get rid of David.

_Being framed for drug dealing was the worst thing that could have happened to him. Prison was just awful and he was very upset._

He ran his finger over each drawing of David’s disheartened face. This was too much to relive right now. Still, he swallowed his emotions and continued.

_With her best friend in prison, Olga was all alone. When she got pregnant she couldn’t work anymore either. The father of her child wasn’t even there for her. Everything was too much and she couldn’t cope._

_But all clouds have a silver lining, and although she died her little baby Sunny was still born._

_David’s father-in-law, grandpa, had to become her legal guardian. After all, David could not take care of her and his husband Hal was overseas working._

_Grandpa was very angry with D’Amico, and had been training very hard while David was in prison so that he could get revenge. It had been so hard for him to see his son alone._

It was all bullshit. His dad had been disabled and cowardly. No amount of weight lifting or jogging could have fixed that. He knew what the truth was. He knew all about the nano-machines.

_Very soon, Sunny was old enough to also help out._

The final depiction of his own father pulling that mask over the child that was legally his daughter made his blood boil. This was sick.

He looked up to see the man himself looming over him, a gun pointed at the head of his only son.

“How did you find me, Hal?”

Hal smiled. “Dad, one of us is still a federal agent, remember?”

He lowered his gun, still not so much of a monster that he could shoot his own flesh and blood. Removing the ammunition magazine and clearing the chamber, he deposited the pistol carefully on a nearby table. Hal lifted the comic book and pointed to it, ashamed.

“Is this how you did it? Is this how you brainwashed our daughter?”

He shrugged. “You call it brain-washing, while I call it making things into a game.”

Hal threw it back onto the desk, frustrated. He couldn’t believe what his father had become. He could see his skin burning with the energy all those nanos gave him. This was tearing their family apart more every day.

“How can you call _this_ a game, dad?” He gestured to the heavy weaponry lining three walls of the room. “Vigilante justice, mass murder… you’re ruining her life. Where is she?”

“She’s safe.”

“Can I see my daughter, dad?”

“She’s not ready to go with you. You’re still stationed in Los Angeles with your task force.”

“Not even a visit? I’m her legal guardian! I miss her, dad. Hell, I miss both of you.”

He stared his son down, cold and calculating. “I appreciate your concern, but you need to leave.”

He approached his desk and non-chalantly took his seat. Hal turned to him before he left.

“Just letting you know, I checked in with the local police and that asshole Lieutenant Shalashaska is looking for Kick-Ass. Does that guy have anything to do with you, dad?” Huey was sifting through some paperwork. “Have you started some kind of fucked up superhero team?”

“Never heard of him.”

“Well…” He threw his arms up in defeat, before adjusting his sweater and turning away. “Heads up, anyway. Keep carrying on like you’re doing now, it’s only a matter of time before he’s looking for you.”

He was in the doorframe now and Huey was looking up at him openly irritated.

“He’s been double-crossing local police for John D’Amico’s money ever since Dave passed up the opportunity.”

“I’m not gonna stop, Hal. Not until D’Amico and his whole goddamn operation are burnt to ashes and buried.”

Hal bit his lip. “Dad, I wish we could get him back, too. Still, this isn’t going to get him out of prison. This is not the right life for Sunny. You can’t take away her childhood.”

He slammed the door on his way out.

Huey screamed through the door in a fit of rage. “You know who owes her a child-hood? John fucking D’Amico!”

-

John looked over the text messages again, following the route that the sightings were implying. He gestured to Vulcan Raven, letting him follow the route. If this kid was moving on foot, they’d catch up in no time. High-rise buildings scrolled by in the sky-line and John checked his gun over to make sure he’d loaded it for the sixth time today. He needed to make extra sure he put an end to this wetsuit-wearing prick. Glancing up, his face twitched in pleasant surprise.

“Holy shit.”

There he was, clear as day. Kick-ass crossed the road right in front of them, nonchalant and off-guard with those stupid batons holstered to his back.

“I don’t fucking believe it. Follow him around the corner but not too fast.”

He watched Kick-Ass jovially fist bump and high-five a few pedestrians as he walked

“What’s with the high-fives? I’ll give him a mother fucking high-five.”

They watched and tailed him, noticing how completely oblivious he was to the fact he was being followed. He approached an opening between two buildings.

“He’s going in the alley.” John observed, before saying it again more slowly. “He’s going in the alley. When I tell you, stop the car. Ready?”

Raven nodded, his brow permanently furrowed and his grip tight on the steering wheel. It had been a while since the Boss had done his own dirty work, but knowing he still wasn’t above it all was what made him so great.

They pulled over at the very opening of the alleyway and stepped out. John called to the costumed creep.

“Hey, Kick-Ass. How you doing?”

The guy just stood there, gesturing back in greeting. John sped up on the approach and swung his foot out into the back of his head, forcing him onto his front. He landed flat on both feet, careful not to scuff his leather shoes. The impact had been brutal, knocking the idiot so hard he couldn’t even muster a single word.

“Kill my men, huh?” He growled down at the man who was desperately trying to scrabble to his feet. “Take my fucking coke?”

He punctuated his sentence by slamming his fist into the guy’s jaw, taking him back down with the greatest of ease. He kicked him a few times. Raven rushed to his side.

“Boss, we have to move. Boss, let’s go.”

Some dork in blue jeans was walking through the alleyway on his phone, dopey and droopy-eyed even in all the confusion. What a stupid prick. He stood there like a wild animal in the headlights.

“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” He boomed at the civilian, who pulled his phone away from his ear and started to flee only for John to draw his gun with remarkable efficiency, gunning the man down. He didn’t leave loose ends. For good measure, he shot Kick-Ass in the head at point-blank range.

Now that was how he got a job done. If we really wanted something done, he had to do it himself. He cracked a small smile at the weight that had been lifted off his shoulders, before Raven ushered him back into the car to safety. The man was always too concerned for him.

-

“He was so young.” Rose sobbed into her hands. “Nobody should ever have to die that way. I just can’t believe it, that’s all.”

Her eyes were red and her face flushed, tears still streaming from her eyes with no intention of stopping. She brought a tissue to her face, drying her nose and cheeks.

Jack used the most reassuring tone he could manage. “Oh, I know but Katie… Guys like Adrian get mixed up in stuff and…”

“I know.” She nodded, putting a hand on his arm. “But what if it was my fault? What if Kick-Ass did it? Should I call the cops or something?”

“What?” Jack held her arm, too, trying to keep her calm. “Come on, that’s not it. He probably didn’t even read your ask yet.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, sniffing back some tears.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

He pulled her in for a hug and she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

The needle exchange was a dull, miserable room and several dreary looking people sat on their chairs dosing off. He embraced her still, giving her as much comfort as she could possibly get in such a place.

“I’m glad you’re here. I was turning into a mess.”

“That’s okay.”

“You are the best.” She muttered, pulling away and wiping away the last of her tears. “You know…”

He nodded.

“I hope it’s okay to say this, Jack, but it so sucks you’re in a relationship.”

He looked down at his feet, timidly biting at his lip. A good person would have told her then and there, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a good person.

-

The article headline read plain as the nose on his face.

KICK-ASS IMPERSONATOR KILLED

“I can’t believe this. What kinda fucking children’s entertainer is that?” He growled, filled with boiling rage again. “Huh?”

Buffalo sat quietly as he vented, equally displeased but well composed.

“What kind of kid has a… Spider-Man party, yeah, but… a Kick-Ass party? Are they selling paper plates at the dollar store now?”

“Boss, I think you’re a little too agitated. You’re freaking me out.” She stated, reaching out with open hands to try and calm him down.

Eli waited patiently behind the door to his father’s office. He had planned this for the last couple of nights in secret, urged on by the idea of meeting Kick-Ass. He wondered what he was like in real life, and if maybe he’d have a chance with him. He knew it was wishful thinking but anything was possible. He clutched a scrap of notepad paper in his hand and listened through the crack in the double door.

“You’ve started getting your hands dirty again, which is admirable but… in broad daylight?”

He frowned. “Since when I asked you fucks to bring me Kick-Ass and you don’t deliver.”

She swallowed, eyes twitching. “Boss, please. It’s been a week and we’ve tried everything. We sent emails and asks, and we’ve got half the crew out doing petty crimes as bait. We’ve busted our asses.”

She noticed that he was fucking around with his credit card on the desk, the ornamental box he normally kept closed wide open.

“Boss, what are you doing? Are you back on the powder right now?”

John frantically divided the lump of cocaine into lines, picking up the thin aluminium straw with his other hand.

He mimicked the voice of a kid, pleading. “Mommy, I want a Kick-Ass party.”

He leaned in and snorted a line off his desk quickly, while Buffalo stood powerless to stop him.

Eli took this as his queue to enter the room, bursting through the door without warning.

“I thought of a way you could possibly get him.”

“Shit.” He scrambled to close the box and pulled a magazine over the incriminating pile on his desk. “How long have you been listening? Get out.”

“Father…” He waved the piece of paper enticingly. “Don’t you want to hear my idea?”

“Hear what?”

“Okay, so let me explain.” He gestured wildly and imaginatively, walking into the room. “You’re a superhero and you’re lonely but you can’t trust anyone in case they expose your secret identity…”

John cut him off with an outstretched hand.

“Comic books. He reads them fucking all day.”

“Father, my point is that there’s one way superheroes can reliably trust a stranger.”

Buffalo settled in her seat again, her interest piqued.

“I can be that stranger.” Eli looked at her and back at his dad. “You just have to give me a chance. I just need a few things.”

John’s face remained still, but he was fiddling with a pen. He wasn’t exactly brimming with ideas of his own right now after all.

“Like what?”

Eli waved the piece of paper again before handing it over.

“I need… these things.” Said the boy timidly.

John stared at the needlessly mysterious notepaper for a moment before snatching it out of his son’s hand. He looked over the array of items listed, bewildered.

“Are you fucking kidding? What’s this?”

He pointed at it, stammering. “It’s- It’s everything I need. Maybe you need to screw someone over like Ocelot or something.”

“Revolver Ocelot? Woah, Eli.” Buffalo stopped him.

“Sorry! Or somebody.” He quickly corrected himself. “It probably shouldn’t be Ocelot.”

There was a moment of silence until Buffalo finally snapped her fingers.

“Miller!”

John’s face twitched. “Miller?”

Eli joined in. “Yeah, Miller! I hate that guy.”

Buffalo was at his side now, fully on board. “Yeah, fuck Miller. He’s turning into a grumpy bastard anyway.”

Eli pleaded one more time. “I swear to you, father, if you let me do this it is going to work.”

He stared at the paper again, looked at Buffalo and then at his son.

“Miller, you said?”

“Yeah.”

-

“Kazuhira Benedict Miller, one of America’s most wanted kingpins was arrested in Queens today after a 911 call from someone claiming to be a superhero.”

The news rang out in the background, and Jack was only half listening to it.

Sam started the conversation, looking up from the Deadpool comic he was flipping through.

“So how are things going with you and Rose?”

He put his tea down, dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, just peachy. We had a sleepover and watched the original King Kong, and did pedicures.”

Emma chuckled, almost spitting out her latte.

“I’m telling you, the longer you wait to tell her the truth the more awkward it will get.”

“I know.” He admitted. “I was gonna tell her but she seems so happy and I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I don’t know when is the right time…”

She looked up at the door. “Now’s your chance.”

Of course, Rose was here. Close behind her was Helena, though, which Emma hadn’t anticipated. She also shrank a little this time. She’d only admitted to thinking Helena was hot a few days ago, so the attraction was still a bit raw.

“Hi!” Rosemary said, slipping into the seat next to Jack. Helena quickly took a seat next to Emma and Sam, and Emma did her best not to have a full-blown panic attack from being too close to a cute girl.

“H-hello, Helena.”

“Hi, Emma.” Helena smiled and started asking her about the manga she was reading.

“Did you guys see the new superhero on TV? How cool is that?”

“Huh?” Jack probed.

She gestured to the barista. “Could you turn it up, please?”

The interviewer stood next to a young man clad in red and white leather, open at the front to display some of the muscle underneath. His hair was bright and blond, his face mostly covered by a mask around the eyes that reached all the way up into the hair for a striking look. He had a big black “M” on his chest and everything.

“This individual, who calls himself ‘White Mamba’, has taken crime fighting to a whole new level as his actions have proven. White Mamba, how do you feel?”

The young man spoke confidently and charismatically, like some kind of dickhead movie star. He had a striking British accent.

“I suppose folks have had enough of living in fear. Kick-Ass really showed how an individual could make a difference. If anybody out there needs help, I’ll be fighting crime 25/8.”

Emma glanced over at Helena, trying not to notice how sweet the smelled. She was a pretty but tough-looking girl, the kind that Emma was always helpless to. She liked the kinds of girls that could pick her up and take her away, literally.

“I’m just a click away. Official-white-mamba.tumblr.com.”

Jack frowned. “Can we turn that down again? What’s so special about him anyway?”

“Didn’t you hear, Jack?” Rose enthused. “He caught that most-wanted guy.”

Sam was nodding, face flushed with excitement. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.”

Emma snapped out of her hormonal haze for a moment. “He had a better costume than Kick-Ass, too.”

Sam chimed in again, clearly a little too into this White Mamba guy. “He’s got a cape and everything. Capes rock.”

Rose nodded. “I’m feeling the cape too, Sam. He looks good, doesn’t he?”

Jack stuttered. “What better… better than Kick-Ass?”

Rose shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head around. “They’re both pretty hot. I just think Red Mist has a better body… don’t you guys think so?”

Sam nodded. “He definitely does.”

Jack went quiet. “Uh…”

Emma nodded. “Oh, I can see the appeal… That leather goth look is really popular now isn’t it?”

Jack groaned. “No. He’s not really my type.”

Still, he had caught himself staring a little at that exposed expanse of chest… He was only human. Everybody had talked about how good he looked in that leather, and they were right. That cape, too?

He stopped off at a costume store on the way home. Trying it on, though, the cape looked a lot less “White Mamba” and more Harry Potter. He couldn’t really help it, since he was just a soft looking guy.

He turned the green and yellow fabric over with his arm a few times, flipped it around and spun his body to see if he could pull it off somehow.

No dice.

He wrestled with the stupid thing and threw it off. He couldn’t look like White Mamba. Maybe he didn’t even want to. Maybe he just liked the way he looked. Jesus, what was the matter with him lately? He couldn’t keep his goddamn hormones in check.

He sat down at his desk and typed in the URL for White Mamba’s blog. It was pretty flashy, and had a few million hits already thanks to his little appearance on the news.

Checking his emails, he even saw one from White Mamba himself. It had only been sent today. Curiosity made him open it and read his request to ‘hook up’. What made him actually reply? Probably the fact he was out of his horny teenage mind. Even the use of the phrase ‘hook up’ was enough to get his imagination going. He hadn’t been getting anywhere with Rose, so it was only normal that he took interest in other people. She didn’t mind. She was already 100% certain he was in a tortured Shakespearean romance with fucking Eli D’Amico.

White Mamba looked close to his age, despite his physique. He needed to get out of the house and get some attention. He was getting lonely.

He waited in the alley alone, eagerly anticipating the arrival of this White Mamba guy. He didn’t even know how long it had been when he was suddenly jolted to attention from the brick wall he was leaning against.

“Kick-Ass!”

He stood up straight, making the most triumphant and attractive pose he could manage. “White Mamba.”

He jumped down from on top of the dumpster he was on, rubbing at his shin when the landing was less than perfect.

“Are you okay?”

He looked down at him, trying not to make it obvious that he was checking him out.

It was pretty typical of him, but he was a sucker for that flowing long hair and that toned body. Who wouldn’t be?

“No, I’m cool.” He planted his hands on his belt, his muscles flexing as he did so. Jack was staring at his chest and it wasn’t even subtle anymore. “I can’t believe you came. You’re my hero. You inspired me, Kick-Ass. Without you there would be no White Mamba.”

“Wow.” The flattery was going to his head, too. Who could resist having someone so devastatingly attractive come onto them so strongly? He blushed under the mask. “Really?”

“Yes. And listen, if you want me to be your sidekick or something…” He trailed off, breaking eye contact in a display of shyness. Jack couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose but he was wrapping him tightly around his finger.

“You want to be my side kick?”

Eli stepped closer. “Yeah, man. You and me together… think about it.”

He was thinking about it, alright.

“Now, do you want to go out and, uh, fight some crime?” He gestured for Kick-Ass to follow him.

“Right now?”

“I have something I want to show you.”

“I normally only fight crime between 9 and 2 on weekdays though, so I can’t be out too long…”

White Mamba nodded, leading him down the alley. This was going surprisingly well. It was almost as if Kick-Ass was as pathetically horny for him as he was for Kick-Ass. If he played his cards right, he could get some fun out of this.


End file.
